


Scorchmarks

by KathrynShadow (orphan_account)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angry Anger, Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/KathrynShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out as a primal sort of rage and the stupid things one’s body decides to do in the heat of battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scorchmarks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProtoDan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoDan/gifts).



> The prompt:
> 
> "darius is surprisingly good at kissing. garen is alarmingly good at oral. what the fuck i thought we were mortal enemies"

It started out as a primal sort of rage and the stupid things one’s body decides to do in the heat of battle. Garen didn’t know who did it, exactly; they were both bloodied and beaten, breathing hard, the midday sun gleaming painfully bright on the edges of a thousand nicks and rends in their armour.

Garen wouldn’t dare speak for another person’s state of mind, but in that haze of rage and pain and blood, he at least felt so terribly and thrillingly  _alive_.

(That bothered him for reasons he couldn’t adequately explain. Maybe he’d been fighting Noxians too long. …No, it was probably just Katarina. The gleam in her eyes when she killed… Garen shuddered, mostly in horror.)

Darius… well, Darius seemed to be enjoying himself as much as he enjoyed anything. It was a very relaxed kind of scowl that he wore, anyway.

Garen slammed his blade into Darius’s shoulder. Darius grunted, seemingly more in acknowledgement of the pain than the pain itself, and lunged.

Garen realised where he was and how he had just left himself open just  _slightly_ too late, the cruel hook on the butt of Darius’s axe-blade catching around Garen’s ankle and  _yanking_.

He remembered crashing into the Noxian, he remembered them both stumbling backwards a couple of steps into the brush. And then he remembered them… well, he remembered them… well.

Darius tasted like blood, the skin of his lips rough and cracked, but Darius  _himself_  was surprisingly… nice about it. If Garen had ever considered this being a possibility (he hadn’t—he  _honestly_  hadn’t), he would have probably expected more biting—

…

—okay,  _harder_  biting. Darius ever being described as “gentle” was laughable, always had been, and this certainly wouldn’t change it, but it couldn’t exactly be categorised as “rough” either. The—the kiss and oh  _gods_  was he actually in a bush  _kissing the Hand of **Noxus**_  what was  _wrong_  with him

To Darius’s credit, he looked just as stunned as Garen was when they reeled away from each other.

* * *

It didn’t stop happening.

Oh, it didn’t happen on the Fields again—Darius made sure of that. But it kept happening  _off_  the Fields. And what’s more, he kept looking forward to it.

What was happening. Why was it happening.  _How_ was it happening.

The room was dim, lit by a fading, flickering fireplace, sizzling in the rain that kept slipping through the chimney. The wind howled outside, random cracks of thunder providing percussion to its rhythmless harmony, and neither one needed to mention that no one even one room over would be able to hear a thing.

That didn’t mean Darius exactly  _wanted_ to hear Garen’s assortment of manly noises. That damn voice would grate on anyone’s nerves after a while; he had no idea how Lux dealt with it.

(There was one way to get him to shut up.)

Darius snorted, strangely feeling more naked for the lack of weaponry than the lack of clothing. “The Might of Demacia kneeling before me,” he said. “Now, _there’s_  a sight.”

Garen glared up at him. “It means nothing,” he snapped.

* * *

Darius honestly had to wonder if Garen’s jaw was attached to the rest of his skull or not. It bore further experimentation.

He  _guessed_ he could return the favour first, though.


End file.
